Denial
by JediLuminaraUnduli
Summary: Choice? Lumiwan. Summary? I don’t know. No really.. Anyone wanna guess? More details in fic.


**Title**: Denial

**Written**: November 24, 2008. Published and completed July 2009.

**Author**: JediLuminaraUnduli

**Rating**: K+

**Summary**: Choice? Lumiwan. Summary? I don't know. No really.. Anyone wanna guess?

**A/N**: I'd completely forgotten about this fic.

Found it on my newly-rediscovered USB, while attempting to revive my fanfic writing.

Haven't written for so long.

Updated Prova (or did I?) on the JC a few months ago,

I'll take me a while to catch up.

There's a reason the summary's not much.

I can't remember what this fic was about, but I believe it was Lumiwan?

Anyone wanna guess what the plot is? I can't seem to remember.

No seriously.

I can't.

Help ?

**~JLU**

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_Why did we refuse? _She didn't know. Did it matter?

_Of course it matters! _The voice came from nowhere, reproaching her. _You and the rest! You were willing to forgo the rescue of an innocent!_

_But it's not my fault, is it? A large number outweighs the individual._

_Not true, not true. _It seemed to reprimand her, coming from all sides.

_But Master Windu had it under control. He knew what we were thinking! _She protested, weakly.

_True, but he was losing. You should have spoken up. _

_But in the end, I did speak up, _she argued, suddenly angry.

_Yes, but you had misgivings._

_So? The others did too._

_But that's the problem. _The voice seemed wise now, ages older than her. _Beings who have skill do not use it. They can be leaders, not followers. You are too passive._

_But that's not fair! _She wailed, inwardly. _How can I, one person, be expected to change history?_

_You can't, but you can help shape it._

_It's the same thing._

_No, it's not. Think of it this way. The younglings in the Temple often play with clay, moulding them into sculptures. Their caretaker sometimes helps them. He is not directing changing the outcome, but helping it, guiding. That is what I mean. Like he said; save a child, save an army._

_But he is a politician! We cannot trust politicians! _She argued still, against a pointless war.

_Young one.. You have been brought up this way, in the ways of war. True, politicians are not normally trusted. They are thought to be representatives of the dark side of politics, evil, propaganda and deficiency. They are held up as icons of deception. But have we truly looked at the good politicians?_

_No. _She sounded resigned, reluctant, even.

_Well, think. The Chancellor has helped the war in many good ways, rarely making a mistake. If he did, how would he benefit from it? How would he benefit from this war at all?_

_He would gain a higher position, more respect._

_True, but is that not what we all seek?_

She fell silent, still not saying anything.

_Understand what I'm trying to say? _The voice was gentle now, pleading.

Before she could reply, a slight ringing sounded in her head. Her vision slowly faded from black and she came to with a slight start.

The ringing was louder now; the doorbell. She stood up from her place beside the window, and strode over.

_This is wrong. You know it. _The voice sounded so sure. She pushed it away, ignoring it, and opened the door a slight crack to peer out.

"Come in," she greeted him. He stepped inside, bowing courteously. As soon as the door clicked shut, he shed his neutral manner, and smiled a real smile, one she had not seen for so long.

She rushed into his arms, burying her face in his shoulder. She could feel him stroking her hair, chuckling.

"I missed you," she breathed, her words somewhat muffled. He grinned down at her. "I can see that."

She reached up and tapped his nose playfully. "Don't be so sure."

"Really?" he leaned down and brought his face inches from hers. Her heart sped up, racing.

"Oh, I think I can be sure."

"And why do you say that?"

"I just..know.. these things."

"Oh really."

"Yes, really."

"Prove it."

"Prove it, I shall, then."

"And just how will you do that?"

"Well…"

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**So..any guesses?**


End file.
